Archive-name: Bondage/atconf.txt

Archive-author: Akai

Archive-title: At the Conference





Disclaimer: This story includes bondage, dominance, pain, you

got it.  Act accordingly.  On the other hand, its not wildly

hard core, lots of head-space stuff, so... Act accordingly.  it

is copyrighted to Akai, but feel free to distribute, so long

as you leave the disclaimer in in full.





                   At The Conference...



She looked around the hotel room and thought .  Certainly, as starving grad

students, neither he or she could afford a room at a hotel like this.

Organizing the volunteers had been a bitch, but she was looking forward

to the conference.  She spotted the balcony overlooking the city

streets and blushed.  She was reasonably sure her Master wouldn't miss

that opportunity when he got here!



Pulling off her traveling clothes, she couldn't quite face putting

on her professional demeanor and finding the chairwoman quite yet.

 she thought.  The bed

was comfy (not surprising, given the cost of these hotel rooms!),

and she began to play with herself distractedly, running her hand

through her bush, teasing her clit, while she thought of her Master,

and wondered what he might cook up.



"Well, I see you're appropriately dressed, slave, but I don't remember

given you permission to masturbate..." 



"I'm sorry, Master, but I was thinking of you," she flirted,

hoping  to get away with her infraction.  



"You're being pushy, again.  For a slave, you seem awfully rebellious."



He stopped, hearing a knock on the door.  After looking through the

peephole, he got an evil grin on his face, backed off, and announced

"be right there..."



"Open the door, slave."



She stared at him in dismay.  Sure, fantasies were one thing, but real

life?  "Now," he said, smacking her ass hard enough to leave a mark.



"Yes, Master."  On the other side of the door stood an astounded 

bellboy.  He took in her full breasts, tiny waist, and slightly rounded

stomach with the faint stretch marks that were the emblem of 

motherhood.  



"W..would you like some ice, Mam?" the bellboy stammered, offering her

a full ice bucket.  



"Do we want ice, Master?"



"Yes, slave, and don't forget to tip the fellow."



She took the bucket from the frozen bellboys hand, and fetched the

empty bucket from the dresser.  Handing the empty bucket to the still

staring bellboy, she felt her inner demons take over, said  "Buy low,

sell high,"  and closed the door.  



"That wasn't nice, slave.  Funny, but not nice.  Now bring the ice,

fetch the toy bag from my pack, and come out onto the balcony."



Turning to follow her Master's orders, she tried to control her fear

and excitement.  He knew that while she liked bondage and had become a

real enthusiast for certain kinds of pain, she was still intimidated

 by the thought of

anyone else seeing her.  To truly dominate her, he had to push her

limits, if only a little bit.  



Her Master stood on the balcony, pulling his long red hair back

into a ponytail.  She shuddered with anticipation.  Pulling his

hair back was a sure fire sign of a fairly serious scene.  At the

door to the balcony, he blindfolded her and cuffed her wrists

behind her.



"There are a million people down on that street," he whispered in her

ear.  She strained to see through the blindfold, but the silk hugged

her face too closely.  He bent her forward over the waist-high solid

railing.  Her breasts hung down into the warm breeze.  She felt as

though they were huge, that someone from the street would reach out

and touch them any moment, although they were, in fact, a good fifteen

stories up.



"Ooo!" she squealed, as she felt ice against her thighs, moving

towards her clit.  The cold felt good in the heat, but drove her

wild when rubbed against her clit and into her snatch. She

jerked, and her breasts swayed, reminding her of her exposed

position .

Her Master reached around and ran the ice over her nipples,

leaving them erect and aching to be touched.



"They like seeing your nipples erect," he said, returning the

ice to her clit.  "Lets make them sway a bit more."  She felt

his hard cock draw across her snatch a couple of times, then

insistently pushing against her asshole.  The water from the

ice had diluted her juices, so he was barely lubed.  She

concentrated hard on relaxing her asshole and accommodating

him, but the ice he was still using on her snatch and clit

effectively prevented that.  She gasped in pain and pleasure

as he thrust his way into her.



"I'd clamp your nipples, but I want the folks on the street

to think you're a slut, not a wierdo."  She had forgotten about

them again, and she gasped again as her feelings of exposure

made her even more tense.  Her Master began to thrust in 

earnest, rubbing hard on her clit, and pushing her belly

painfully against the balcony railing.  She lost herself

into the experience completely, drowning in the conflicting

sensations.  The spasms of his orgasm pushed her over

the edge, and she came in waves, collapsing, held up only by

his hands around her waist.



In silence, her Master drew her back from the balcony into

the room.  He uncuffed her hands, turned her about, drew

off the blindfold, and smiled down into her eyes.



"Hello, my love," he said.





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